Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, February 12, 1890, Image 1

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~^ ~* f ' ' " lewis m. grist, proprietor. J |)nt Jndcjicndent gfamitg Ijtaspptr: <Jor the ftromotion of the folitkal Social, ^(jritullural and (Eommcreial Jnterests of the ^ouflt. j terms?$2.00 a tear in advance. VOL. 36 YOBKYILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 12, 1890. ISTO. 7. gfllHE DIf I FROM THE DM If Copyrighted, i88< rial Arrangement through the America) CHAPTER XXVIII. HOLBROOK MAKES A STIRRING DISCOVERY AS TO HIMSELF. zlZdSgc. fWL Mn:2 Annie, but she was not present, and and there was a void in the room and disappointment in his heart. After Tom had been presented to Mrs. Templeton, for up to this time he had never met her, Holbrook opened the conversation by saying: "We came upon some rather startling Information this morning, Mrs. Templeton, which closely concerns yourself and your daughter. 1 regret she is not here to listen to the story." "Why, was she to meet you here?" asked Mrs. Templeton. Holbrook stared at the old lady. "I do not understand you," hi said. "But where did she go to after she left you?" "Left me?" said Holbrook, much puzzled. "I have not seen her today." "Then she missed you. She went out to see you." "To see me?" replied Holbrook, still more puzzled. ?Tm n ..11 AL. -1J l_ J_ t. "wny, yes, saia me oia iaay, mucu alarmed by his manner. "In response to this note from you." . She rose from her seat and, crossing to the table, took from it an open letter, which she handed to Holbrook. Tom, who had quickly perceived something was wrong, did not hesitate to lean over Holbrook's shoulder and read with him: "My Dear Miss Temple ton?i desire to meet you at the surrogate's office, i where we were day before yesterday, at! 10 this morning. Your signature to some papers is necessary. The presence of your mother is not necessary. "Yours respectfully, "Henry Holbroos." "What horrible thing is this?" cried Holbrook. "This note is a forgery. I never wrote it" Mrs. Templeton burst into moans and lamentations. "Some one has abducted herl" cried Holbrook. "XII turn. the city upside I rtrnxm? m en to the nolica at once." "Stop," said Tom. "Holbrook, be quiet a moment" "Quiet man?" turned Holbrook on him fiercely; "she's in danger. Can I be quiet when perhaps her life hangs in the balance? Come, let's go. We'll alarm the city." Tom seized Holbrook by the arm and said Bteraly: "Stop, man alive, and make sure what you are about to do." "Let me loose!" demanded Holbrook, beside himself. "I'm dangerous. Do you know I love that girl?love her, heaven only knows how much! 1 must, I will find her." Tom held him firmly. "Granted," he said, "you love her, and I believe you. But to go bellowing like a wild bull about town in this manner is not the way to find ber. Be a man. Look at this thing coolly. I'll go anywhere with you, but you must not lose self control. All of your faculties are needed in this work. If you are to help the girl or this poor old mother?heavens, she has fainted!" They both hastened to take tier from the floor, to which she had fallen, and to bear her into the adjoining room, the door of which was open, and lay her upon the bed. The diversion this created helped Holbrook to resume control of himself. While he sought for water, Tom hastened into the hall to summon assistance, but as he opened the door a lady stood before him, probably attracted thither by Holbrook's outcries. Tom hastily tolj her what had occurred, and begged that she would go to Mrs. Templeton. He then went back to Holbrook, and took him aside. He said sternly to him: "Holbrook, you must summon all your self control, all your manhood. There's work to be done that can be done only by men, not boys or whimpering fools. Let me see you steady yourself. Let me say something to you. The search will not be long. The man who knifed James Templeton is the person who enticed Annie Templeton away." "You are right, Tom," said Holbrook, grasping his hand and wringing it. "In the first sharp agony of fear for her I was unnerved. You shall not complain of my want of manhood again. But where can she be? Who can have dono this? What shall we do? Where shall we go? Think for me, Tom; act, only don't let us stop here. I shall lose my mind if we don't do something." "One moment. Let us see to Mrs. Templeton first." At this moment the lady who had gone to Mrs. Templeton's assistance entered the room, and said that the old lady had revived and desired to see the gentlemen. They entered her room. "My daughter," she feebly moaned. "Have no fear," said Tom promptly. "She will soon be restored to your embrace." "Yes," said Holbrook, "I shall neither sleep nor eat until I can clasp her in my arms." "God speed and bless you!" said the old lady faintly. They hurried out. "Now," said Tom, as soon as they were well out in the street, "the first thing to do is to see that you are cooled down and steadied. You and I want to sit down for a careful examination of this thing, before we take a step or make a move." "The first thing to do is to go to the police," replied Holbrook. "I don't agree with you?stop, speak low, we are followed. Don't show that you are aware of it." "Let me get at the scoundrel." demanded Holbrook. Tom seized him so tightly that he gave Holbrook pain. "Would you ruin everything? Oh, if the Shadow were only here to follow the 8pyl But let us take a cab here at the corner." Holbrook had been restrained with difficulty, and Tom desired to get him into a cab. where he could reason with him. His companion submitted, a cab was called, and the driver directed to go straight to Holbrook's office. When they were once on their way Tom said. "I'm not sure that the best way is not to tell the police. I want to discuss it. I fear it is not. The result of giving the IIMBUTYON .RY OF A LAWYER AND THE NOTE OOK OF A REPORTER. ARCLAY NORTH. j, by 0. M. Dunham. Published by Spei Press Association. matter to the police would be that a general ilarm would be given and the bird take flight I am positive we are followed. If we were to go to the police, in ten minutes the party would know of it If, on the contrary, we go quietly to your office, they will be thrown off and suppose that we have not yet waked up to the affair. To lull their suspicions is to make a great gain. Believe me, this is the surer way. Be guided by me, thus far at all events." "Well, suppose I submit, what then? What is gained? Time will have been lost?precious time." "I have gained something when I have got you to a point that you will argue tmfVi mn " "What do you mean?" "That your reason is restored?we want cool thought on this subject." Thus Tom, who was fighting for time, succeeded in gaining it The truth was, the reporter was not altogether disingenuous or disinterested in the policy he was pursuing. He quickly realized that any application to the police for assistance must result in telling to the authorities everything they knew. Convinced as he was that the same hand that struck down the brother had seized the sister, he felt that the discovery of the girl would lead straightway to the discovery of the murderer. To give this matter into the hands of the police would be to give them the means to unravel the crime of Union square, and they, not he, would have the credit of the detection and arrest. He was in momentary fear that Holbrook would detect his purpose, and he was at his wit's end to furnish argument in favor of the position he had taken. His great trouble was that he could not suggest to himself, let alone Holbrook, a feasible plan of procedure if the matter were not given to the police, nor indeed even invent a plausible one. Time was tho great desideratum, and this, by all tho ingenuity he could exercise, he endeavored to gain. His task was made not an easy one by the impatience of Holbrook. . While thus arguing, talking, declaiming and lecturing with Holbrook, Tom caught a glimpse of the Shadow standing upon the curbstone, and perceived that the Shadow had seen him. He gave him a hasty signal to follow, and was pleased to observe that it was recognized. This incident afforded Tom another pretext, and thus, by dint of one device and another, he succeeded in getting Holbrook to his office. They both entered together. As they did so a clerk said: "There is Mr. Holbrook." Upon this a very dirty, a very ragged and a very small boy came up to Holbrook and asked: "Be you Mr. Holebook?" "Yes," replied the lawyer. "Fm Mr. Holbrook." "Den dis here's for you," handing a dirty alio of paper nearly rolled into a ball. Before either Tom or Holbrook could realize what had taken place the boy had shot through the half open door and scampered off. It was with difficulty that Holbrook could decipher it, for it was written with a lead pencil upon the margin of a newspaper. When he did he uttered a cry of joy. CHAPTER XXIX. THE ABDUCTION OF ANNIE. truth be told, she was not displeased with the opportunity of spending an hour or two in the society of her lawyer. His companionship had become agreeable to her, and though she was far from admitting to herself the idea of any especial fondness for him, still the more she saw of him the more welcome his visits became. He was so strong, so comforting, and he knew just what was the right thing to do, and he had the faculty of lifting her mother from the contemplation of her griefs. When Annie arrived at the door of the surrogate's office a young man of gentleman like appearance stepped forward, and, lifting his hat, said: "i nave oeen waiting some time tor you, Miss Templeton, and quite impatiently." Annie drew back astonished. "I am afraid I have been awkward in my speech," he continued. "I meant to say that for any delay Mr. Holbrook will blame me. He is very exacting in business matters. That is why I say I am impatient." "Why, it is not yet 10 o'clock," exclaimed Annie. "Pardon me, I am afraid your timepiece is out of order. It is considerably after 10. But here is a note I am charged by Mr. Holbrook to deliver to you." nc handed it to her with a bow. Annie took it and read: "Surrogate's Office, J New York, Sept. 14, 1884.) "My Dear Miss Templeton?I regret so much to cause you the annoyance I undoubtedly do this morning, but business knows no other law than its own. The surrogate sits at homo this morning ?a fact I only learned on arriving here. I have other business as well as your own before the surrogate, and as he will sit but for a short time, I must hurry off. I leave a clerk to escort you. Your sincere friend, Henry Holbrook." When Annie had finished reading the note sho looked up with a confiding OX1111U, CH*J IilQ "You arc then a clerk of Mr. Holbrook?" "Yes, Miss Templeton, and entirely at your service. The surrogate is confined to his house with a cold, and sent word down that he would not dare to venture out, but that he would listen to all who had pressing business at his house. Now, if you please, we will go there. Here is a carriage I have had in waiting for you." The concocters of tho design against Annie's freedom had evidently counted upon her ignorance of the methods of conducting business, for while to almost any one experienced in tho world this would hnve Droved but a clurnsv device. yet, d'- ected against an unsophisticated creature like Annie, its very simplicity and transparency made it the more skillful. It is true that after entering the carriage, and after she had had timo to make a furtive examination of the young man who had taken the seat opposite her, she had mentally concluded that she 1 Jdid not liko him, and that he seemed to !be everything else than a gentleman, though lie dressed like one and assumed tho speech of one. There were certain signs which influenced her judgment, as they do that of most women. His hands were unmistakably dirty, and his finger nails were in mourning. A male observer, especially if slangy, would have said that the young man had been on a "bat" the night before; his hair was harsh and tangled, though well oiled; the inflamed rims of his eyes, his parched lips, and the heavy puffs like cushions under his eyes, would have shown this, if a plain odor of gin cocktails, above the breath heavy with the flavor of cloves and roast coffee beans, had not told the tale. But Annie was not experienced in such things, and she gave little heed to one who, after all, was nothing to her? merely an instrument of Mr. Holbrook. She did wonder, however, why it was that he had gotten a coach so close, and one in which there were such small windows. It was 60 stuffy. The young man did not obtrude himself. Ho was apparently busy with memoranda and papers. Onee ho lifted his head to sav that it was necessary for them, in order to make a quick trip, to pass through a disagreeable portion of the town. To this she made no reply. Finally they turned into the street, the dirt of which passed all comprehension upon her part Children seemed to swarm on the sidewalks; women, often drunk even at that early hour, and clothed in rags, talked and quarreled on the sidewalks and on the stoops of the squalid dwellings. She became interested in the scene, novel to her, and leaned forward to look from the window. She did not notice that the young man had drawn the curtain over the window on the opposite side of the coach. He broke the silence that had continued for some time: "I beg you will excuse me, Miss Templeton. 1 know it is not the proper tiling to do, but I am suffering greatly with my eyes this morning. Have I your permission to apply a lotion to them?" Wondering at the strangeness of the request, she nevertheless murmured her permission, and turned again to the street He drew his handkerchief from his pocket and then a bottle, with the contents of which he plentifully saturated the handkerchief. Before she could realize what was being done the young man snapped a spring, the curtain shot up over the window in front of her, she was forced back on the cushions with a vigorous push on her shoulder, the handkerchief was closely pressed on her nose and mouth, and, though she struggled ineffectually for a time, unable to make a noise, she soon lost all consciousness. CHAPTER XXX ANNIE MAKES AN ACQUAINTANCE. was lying ^ ^ y/ upon a / rough bed. Sharp pains wero shooting through her head and an intolerable thirst consumed her. "Water," she murmured. "She's coming to," 6aid a voice, seemingly from a great distance, which nevertheless fell upon her ear with a strangely familiar sound. A cup was pressed to her lips, and she drank eagerly. "She'll do now, and I'll go," said the same voice. A moment later she heard a few steps, and a door open and close. She opened her eyes. A man of rough exterior stood over her. She closed them again in fright, and nearly swooned. When next she opened them she was alone. Unable to collect her thoughts, she lay still a few moments. By and by the experiences of the morning rushed over her. "For heaven's sake, where am I?" she cried. Then 6he sprang from her couch, forgetful of her sufferings. She was dazed. The room she found herself in was evidently an attic room. The roof sloped down low and close to the floor on one side. There was neither ceiling nor walls; the rafters and studding were bare of plaster. The floor was uncarpeted. A dormer window broke through the roof and gave light to the room. She flew to it, but could not reach it; a strong iron grating set in the timbers and floor barred her way. She shook it in the desperation of despair. As well might she have tried to move one of the Brooklyn bridge towers. She flew to the door at the foot of the bed; it was locked and bolted from the outside. There was a strong board partition running up to the roof, and in it was a door; she flew to that. It opened, and she entered a similar room. Another dormer window, and another iron grating, and another door leading to the stairs; that also was locked and bolted on the outside. She was like a frightened bird, with throbbing breast, beating the bars of a cage. Then for the first time she realized that her dress appeared strange. She examined it. It was a coarse calico garment of vulgar figure. She was bewildered. Then she found it had been slipped over the other dress. IIow? She could not comprehend. Her head began to whirl, and before she could reach the other room darkness overcame her. When she awoke to consciousness again she was lying upon the floor. She staggered to her feet. How long she hud lain there she could not tell. It was still bright day, but whether it had been five minutes or five hows, she was unable to determine. Her eyes fell again upon the calico dress which covered her. She stripped it off with hurried action. She stood a moment, her senses numbed ?utterly confused. By and by the events of the day began to pass before her vividly. She traced 1 i* ?/*nr?A in +V*A LUULU QJL1U uy Uim, tU tllU uuuiovcug IU vuw coach. "It was chloroform," she said aloud. Then she thought of her mother, of her alarm because Annie had not returned, and of the mothers distress over the new calamity, falling so closely on the murder of her brother. This thought touched a tender chord, and she wept violently. The 6torm of tears acted like a 6torm on a 6ultry day; it cleared tho atmosphere. When she recovered herself she began to think. She made a close examination of the room; it was similar in size and appearance to tho one she had first found herself in. A mattress lay in tho corner with a pillow and a horso blanket tumbled on it, as if some one had slept there. Two chairs stood near tho dormer window. On one was a newspaper. She picked it up. It was of tho date of the 14th of September. That was tho day she was last at home. It must still bo that day. Tho newspaper was new and fresh; it had not been opened. A small, round table stood in the center of the room, a plain, wooden top table, not particularly clean. A plate, a cup, both dirty, and some crumbs, showed that not long before some one had eaten there. A stump of a lead pencil lay on the table. She went into the other room. It was bare of everything save a chair and the bed on which she had lain. Apparently there was no hope of es cape. She listened. She could hear no sounds in the house. Only the noises from the 6treet?the cries of hawkers, the shouts of children at play, the roll of vehicles?all these came to her deadened by the-distance. What was the meaning of her seizure and confinement, she asked herself. Who was the enemy of her family who first killed her brother and then abducted her? Why were these calamities so suddenly precipitated upon them, who had always lived such quiet and uneventful lives? It was a problem too deep for her to solve; she was not even aware of an enemy. Her thoughts instinctively turned to Holbrook. He would assist her if he knew of her distress, and he would know because of her failure to meet him as requested. Ah, a thought! She had been trapped by forged notes from him. She grew the more frightened by the thought. Oh, if she could but communicate with Holbrook! She prayed heaven to open a way. "Hi, missy, hi!" - A voice startled her. She looked in every direction but the right one. "Hi, missy, look up." She did. In the roof there was a skylight. Through a broken pane the very dirty face of a boy looked down upon her. If it had been the face of an angel it could not have appeared more beautiful to her. "I seed them when they brung you up here. Was you sick?" "Yes. Can't you come down here?" "No, de winder is nailed tight. 'Sides, he'd trash me. He kicked me down stairs onct." "Who's he?" "Do feller 'wot's got yer locked up. Oh, he's a tuffl" "He's a bad man?" "He's an orful bad man, I'm tellin' yer, missy." "Do you want to help me?" "You'd tell on me." "No, indeed I won't. If you would only help me, I could get a bad man punished." "What, trashed? What, walloped right up and down, his eyes blackened and his teeth knocked out?say, missy, would yer if I'd help yer?" His eyes danced with glee at the prospect. "Indeed, 1 would," said Annie: and she was quite sincere. "I golly I dat would bo good. Yer wouldn't tell on me, sure?" "No, indeed." "Den I will if I kin." "I want you to go to Mr. Holbrook"? and she gave him the address?"and tell him where I am, that I am locked up here." "Write it down, missy." "I have no paper. Wait," she said, as she ran hastily into the other room. She snatched up the paper and tore a strip from the margin, and catching up the pencil on the table she wrote hurriedly: iicipi l am iva/ACu up v/u tuc wp nw* of a house" But where? She looked up at the boy. ''Where am I?" The boy snickered. "Why, right down dere, missy." "No, no, but in what street?" "Oh, in Mott street, tree doors from Bayard." She wrote: "In Mott street, three doors from Bayard 6treet. Come quickly and help me. "Annie Templeton." She folded it up. But how to get it to the boy? He put his arm through the broken pane and she tried to throw it to him. Several ineffectual attempts showed her the futility of this effort. She thought a moment. "Wait," she cried. She ran into the other room and dragged the table after her and put it directly under the skylight, and then climbed to its top- and reached up. She was still too far away, stretching as she did on her tiptoes. She clambered down and brought in a cnair, wiucn sne piacea on me tame. Climbing up on it at the risk of a tumble, she found her face on a level with tho downstretched hand of the gamin. She put the (aper in his hand, and holding it gave birn directions how to go. The touch of the softest hand he had ever felt moved tho little vagabond. Then she kissed the dirty paw of the youngster as he promised to be fleet of foot. In a moment more she heard the patter of his bare feet on the slate roof. She climbed down and restored the table and chair to tho places where she found them. She sat down on the bed to think. But she was too much disturbed to think or to sit. She began pacing up and down the floor. She had taken but a few turns when she heard a bolt drawn back and a key inserted in a lock. The door opened. It was the one opening into tho other room. A step or two on the floor. A man stooa oeiore ner. xau was dressed in shabby black clothes. A battered black derby hat was on his head, under which showed the straggling and matted locks of his brown hair. His face was covered with a coarse, bushy brown beard and mustache, above which glowed a prominent hooked nose, the end of which was inflamed. Two piercing, fiery eyes peered out on her. "So," ho said, "yer've found yer way into this hero room, have yer, my lady?" She jnade no reply. "Tryin* to find a way out, eh I Well, I don't blame yer for that. It's what I expected yer to do, so I iixed it that yer couldn't." His eye fell upon the discarded calico dress, and he laughed. "Oh, ho, yer didn't like the nice purty dress yer friend persented yer with, eh?" "Why am I confined here?" she asked. "Who brought me here?" "Not knowin' can't say," the man replied. "Why bo yer confined here? Not knowin' I couldn't say." "Why do you keep me here, then? Oh, sir, 1 pray you, let mo go. I will pay you handsomely if you will let me." "Oh, no, my ladybird, I couldn't do ' 1 1 ? I ? T * . ? ? Anltt n' Awlfivo mat, yer liliuw, I uiumj UUI-MU uiuuj, and so you will have to. Let yer go? Oh, no, that wouldn't do at all; but I wish they'd take yer away from here, for I don't want yer." Annie saw the uselessness of further words, and she trusted to the boy. The man continued: "Here, there's somethin' to eat for yer and some beer"?pointing to the table. Ho walked over to it and took away the plate and cup that Annie had just seen there. Ho moved tho chair on which lay tho paper to the table. As he lifted tho paper ho said: "And here's somo readin' for yer." His attention was attracted to tho mutilated margin. Ho looked quickly to the table and saw the pencil was gone. "What have yer beendoin'," he asked, fiercely, going to her. As he did ho saw : tho pencil on tho floor. "Ho, ho! Yer'vo been a-tryin' to kommuniercate, hev ye?" "Yes," sho replied, boldly. "Well, did ye?" said ho, peering at her keenly and suspiciously. Tho idea swept over Annie's mind that it would be wise to conceal her attempt. "Of what use was it?" she said, wearily. Women are born actresses. "How was I to send a letter from here?" "True for ye. Where's wot ye writ?" "I didn't write anything. I tore the paper up." He looked upon the floor, and saw pieces of paper which Annie had idly torn into bits. This did not satisfy him. He looked at ber suspiciously a moment, and then said: "I don't believe ye. Not that ye saw anybody, but yer've thrown somethin' out for a chance. I'll see to that at once. Yer'd better eat," he said as ho turned away, "for yer've a long ride before ver to-night." With that ho strode hastily out of the room, locking, bolting and barring the door after him. Her heart failed as she heard the bolts shoot She saw bolts and bars on the inside. With a quick impulse she put up the bars and shot the bolts. She flew to the other door and bolted and -barred that. She was safe from unwelcome intrusion. * Then she sat down to wait for Holbrook. [TO HE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK.l aim.. THE CATAWBAS. THE REMAINING FEW OF A ONCE POWERFUL TRIBE. The majority of the readers of The Enquirer are aware of the fact that there are a number of Indians?the Catawbas?living in this county, but excepting those who reside in the immediate vicinity of the reservation, on Catawba river, there are probably very few who know anything about them. In fact, they seem to know very little about themselves, and if the visitor to their settlement obtains a great deal of information as to their number, condition, and manner of living, he will do it through his own observation, for it is not much of such data that these taciturn objects of curiosity are willing to volunteer. The reservation includes about one 4-I.Anoo r?rl olAnnr tho TM cllf M1UUWUU >,> ll.(S ?<?"h - -r> ? bank of the river, some three miles north of where it is crossed by the Three C's railroad. A reporter for The Enquirer was in tne neighborhood not long ago, and in company with Mr. D. T. Lesslie, took occasion to go over and see what he could of the Indians. It was rather late in the afternoon when they arrived at the settlement, and though having but little time to spare, they were very soon satisfied that there was very little to be seen and still less to be learned. The first house stopped at, though built of logs, was in pretty comfortable repair, and riding into the yard, the explorers saluted.: "Hello!" "Heho!" answered a decidedly gutteral voice from within, and an Indian woman, of about forty years of age, came to the door. She had bee: engaged in knitting a sock before she came out, and resumed her work while waiting to hear what was wanted. "Who lives here?" "Who live here ?" "Yes, whose house is this?" "Oh! me and John Harris." "Is John Harris your husband ?" "Yeh, he my old man." "Whereis John Harris ?" "Where John?" * "Yes, where are all the men folks ?" "Some over in the woods haulm' stock. Me not know where all at." After a few more such cjuestions, eliciting answers which evinced that the woman was not inclined to be j more communicative than she could hnln thf> rpnnrt<>r nnrl his pomnanion bid her good evening, and leaving her with tier knitting, proceeded on their way in searcli of the "men folks." A short distance further on they came upon another house very much like the one just described, and another woman proved to be the only occupant. Sne was engaged in shaping an Indian clay pipe with the blade of an old case knife, still busy with her work as she came to the door in answer to "Hello !" "Good evening." "Good even'." "Where are all the men folks?" "Me not know." "Where is your old man ?" "My old man, he dead." "Well, why don't you marry again ? Why don't you get yourself another husband?" "Me no want to. One time enough." "Who marries you, when you marry ? Does your chief marry you ?" The woman did not seem to understand the meaiiing of the question, and answered, "Heh ?" But after , some further explanations, replied : ! "Oh ! nobody marry us. Ave jest ( take up." "How maiiy of you Indians are thereon the reservation now?" , "How many?" "Yes, how many in all ?" , "Me not know." "Fifty?" : "Yeh, fifty." "Are there sixty ?" "Yeh, sixty." < "A hundred?" ( "No, no hundred." j By means of such answers, brought ( out by a great variety of questions to this and other Indians, the reporter j concludes that there are about fifty , Catawbas, men, women and children, ( 011 the reservation. Until very re- ( eentlv it has been the custom of the tribe to have a regularly constituted ' chief, with power and authority to , act for the "Nation" in all cases requiring a representative. The last ! chief was Thomas Mrtmson, a welleducated Catawba from the Indian , Territory. He was elected in 188(1, and shortly afterward undertook to reassert the titles of the Indians to large tracts of land originally owned j by them in eastern York, but failing in this has returned to the West, j The reporter asked one of the In- ( dians why they did not elect another , chief, and was answered: "Me not \ know: Because we can't get us to- , gether, me reckon. Of the Indians ( who have left the reservation, some , have gone out to the Indian Territo- ( ry, and some are scattered about in . this State?one family being in dies- ( ter and two others in Spartanburg. , As is well known, these interesting < people are rapidly dying out. The j first white settlers who came into , this section about one hundred and ( seventy-five years ago, found them j numbering upwards of six thousand. At present there are scarcely more ; than a half dozen full bloods among ] them, and these are well up in years, i A few decades more and the iast of j the Catawbas will have passed away. But all of them are still Indians, j lacking in none of the characterise < ics of the race. They won't work j any more than they can help, and it j is said that they never steal, but i nearly all are persistent beggars, and , very much given to drunkenness, j though gradually improving as re gards this latter vice. And a very , remarkable fact in connection with them is, that though they speak Eng- | lish with the greatest fluency, they ; still preserve and converse among themselves in the Catawba dialect. , Horse Flesh as Human Food.? i Many Berlin butchers have gone into i bankauptcy in consequence of the ! continued prohibition of the importation of cattle and pigs. Another consequence of this irksome prohibition is a scarcity of fat stock throughout Germany, and the con- < sumption of horse flesh is increasing. In Berlin alone seventy horses a day are slaughtered, the flesh being eager- i ly bought at moderate prices. ^tiscfllancous grading. [ WILLS AM) TESTAMENTS. r Tlie subject of wills and testaments ' is interesting alike from a historical | and genealogical view. From an en- ( tertaining article in the Commercial t Bulletin, by Hon. Richard J. Monks, * we make the following extracts: j Occasionally persons possessed of f more or less property, while still in t the midst of life and the enjoyment of health, proceed to make a will. | ^ The majority of wills are made when, r from disease or old age, the person j finds that they are nearing the shore 1 which separates time from eternity. r It is from this cause perhaps more \ than any other, that executors and trustees find so many inconsistencies i in wills. The mind of the person '? making the will being enfeebled by r disease or old age, or excited by the [ /tUnn/?A nlmiif in onmf) 1C linflt- S UI1U.1?C .IV/WUW IV/ ^ ~ ted for the task; and the document \ such a person signs, and which is ex- c pected to be the guide of those in < charge of his estate, is apt to he in- ^ consistent, incomplete and often uiv j satisfactory to the person making the t will. A The scene at the death-bed of Lord a Byron, far away from home and 1 friends, shows plainly the danger of ] not putting one's wishes for the fu- f ture in writing while in health. His c death occurred at Missolonghi, t Greece, in April, 1824. When Fletch- c er, his attendant, asked him if he should not go for a pen, ink and paper, Byron exclaimed, "O my God, no; you will lose too much time." , Immediately after he said, "0 my poor child, my dear Ada. Give her my blessing, and you will go to r Lady Byron, and <?ay?tell her every- > thing." His voice faltered, and he continued to mutter to himself for a sometime with great earnestness. 1 "Now I have told you all," he add- r ed. ^Execute every order I have c given you." r "My lord," replied Fletcher, in 1 the utmost consternation, "I have t not understood a word." c "Not understood me!" exclaimed i Byron; "then all is lost, for it is \ now too late." t It is related of Judge Warren, who was at one time president of the f .i.i/l T>t./i\ri/lon/?n rciilrnn/l t.llilt. \ juur?u;ii aim x iu?iuviivv/ a , being at a dinner at Plymouth, a Mass., he gave as a toast: 1 "The lawyer's best friend, the man 1 who makes his own will." i This sentiment, though frequently 1 true, does not constitute an invariable rule, by any means. Coutts, the f great London banker, made a valid s will on a half sheet of paper. On 1 the other hand, Lord Westbury, one \ of the ablest lawyers of his time, left I a complicated will over which his e heirs quarreled. t One of the largest estates ever ad- r ministered in England was that of a e Mr. Rundell, who died in 1827. His c personal property alone amounted to twelve million pounds, and the gov- f ernment stamps upon the will cost s fifteen million pounds. g John Jacob Astor was one of the I first Americans, the magnitude of c whose fortune attracted public atten- i tion. He came to this country from r Waldorf, Germany, about the year r 1782. His wealth at the time of his fc death, was estimated at twenty mil- p lions of dollars, a very large fortune s at that time. He died in 1848, and s by his will bequeathed four hundred li thousand dollars to the Astor library, p His son, William 15. Astor, wno cuea s in 187;>, left two hundred and fifty p thousand more to the library, and a 'I very large fortune to his family. 1; Stephen Girard was a Frenchman, c born near Bordeaux in 17/30, but who spent a large part of his life in Phila- e delphia. He was a very penurious t man all through his life, and his es- s tate, at the time of his death in 1881, J was estimated at nine million dol- \ lars. Of this vast sum only a small r pittance was left to his relatives, the li great hulk being distributed among fi charitable institutions. To found and n endow Girard College, he bequeathed over two millions. Being a free i thinker of the school of Voltaire, he t caused to be inserted inhis will a v clause prohibiting clergymen from n having anything to do with the col- v lege, and even from admission as t visitors. There are are now over five t hundred beneficiaries. c Samuel J. Tilden, who died in New York in 18(50, left an estate val- s ued at five million dollars, a very ji large part of which was, by his will t to be devoted to public and benefi- o cent objects. The sum devoted to the t erection and endowment of a free s public library is so large, that if wise- d ly administered the library will be- s come one of the greatest institutions p of its kind in this country. George Peabody, a Massachusetts e boy, started in life poor. By his v great ability and by close application ji be became very rich, and when he u died in 18(59, he left a fortune to his relatives amounting to about five " million dollars. Shortly before his s death he bequeathed two and a half a million as a building fund for the " erection of lodging houses for the poor of London, and also devised for o a southern education fund two mil- v lion, one hundeed thousand dollars, t Alexander T. Stewart, the great a dry goods merchant of New York, a died in 187(5, leaving an estate valued f< at over twenty millions. With the tl exception of one million to Judge ii Hilton, and three hundred and twen- I ty-five thousand to his employees, this vast estate, he having no chil- b ilren, was left to his wife. The two a E*reat benefactions started by Mr. Ij Stewart in his life-time were both tl failures. The houses at Warden City, a on long Island, intended as homes a for industrious mechanics, never attracted this class. The hotel built on si Park Avenue to accommodate girls f< and women of moderate means failed e to accomplish this, and being taken e possession of by the Stewart trustees, 1< was transformed into the Park Ave- o nue hotel. I Among the magnificent bequests c made by James Lick, of San Francis- v co, were seven hundred thousand b lobars fir the construction of the telescope, now successfully complet- y ed; two hundred and fifty thousand g dollars to aeautify the State capitol a grounds; three hundred thousand " dollars to found a school of mechanic " irts; one hundred and fifty thousand y dollars to erect and maintain free d public baths, and one hundred thou- n sand dollars to found an old ladies' home. The widow of Baron Itoths- tl child, who died in 18S4, left, for " charitable puposes, one hundred and e fifty thousand pounds. e William H. Vanderbilt, who died in New York in 1885, left by will, to h his family, property valued at one f< hundred and eighty-two million dol- a lars, besides minor bequesfs. Sentiment in wills has many ex- a iniples. Thus we find in a will of v :n~ i,?a_ 3ir \iiii;'> inu tiiiiuuiii, uiiiu JIU.T band of Lady Waldegrave, the fol- ii lowing: "The unspeakable interest b with which I regard Lady Wnlde- o grave's future induces me to advise her earnestly to unite herself again h with some one who may deserve to tl enjoy the blessing of her society." I Extract from the will of Washing- a ton Irving: I give and bequeath p my land and dwelling house in si W estchester county, which I have n Milled Sunnyside, to my brother, p Ebene/.er Irving, for his life, and, on a death, I give the same in fee to his c< [laughter, or daughters, unmarried, so that Sunnyside may continue to c be, as long as possible, an Irving ci homestead." k Extract from the will of Moses n Williams, a wealthy Boston mer- s] chant who died in 188:2: "I desire ? my trustees to regard the safety of " the trust property, rather than the t< amount of income to be derived from n it. In making investments, I have ti lever looked for a large income, but lave sought the greatest security of lie principal. Governed by this ule, I have met with few losses, and o this I owe my large estate." Frequenty money earned by some ndividual (luring a lifetime of selflenial and toil has been a curse to hose who inherited it, instead of a ilessing. Within a few years two :hildren who had received a very arge sum from the estate of their atner, used up the whole in less han three months. A young man, who had squandertda large inheritance before he was wenty-five years old, applied to a lear relative for money to supply lim with food and lodging. hen ie so applied he had on his feet a pair >f boots with embroidered tops, for vhich he had paid eighteen dollars. One can imagine the feelings of a >erson who, being one of the heirs of m estate, learns that through some [uarrel or misunderstanding the iroperty is to be tied up in law for a cries of years. One such, in France, vlion he finally secured his share in >ld age, exclaimed: "I have plenty >f bread at last, but 110 teeth to eat it i.-i+li >> lln lvnitlrl rlnnhtlpsisj hflVP ireferred to have been a relative of he miser, who, when assured that he vas about to die, made a will in fa:or of his relations. During his last lours the ruling passion of his life >roved so strong that he sent hastily or the persons named in his will, and >ffered to pay them on the spot if hey would but discount five per ent. SOME SOCIAL SLIPS. "I beg your pardon, madam, but mu are sitting on my hat," exclaim;d a gentleman. "0, pray excuse ne; I thought it was my husband's", vas the unexpected reply. In another instance of conjugal imenities a wife said to her husiand: "I saw Mrs. Becker this morling, and she complained that on the iccasion of her last visit you were so ude to her that she thought she must lave offended you." "Nothing of he kind," he answered. "On the ontrary, I like her very much ; but t was rather dark at the time, and vhen I entered the room at first I bought it was you." "Poor John?he was a kind and orbearing husband," sobbed John's vidow, 011 her return from the funeril. "Yes," said a sympathizing leighbor; "but it is all for the best, lou must try to comfort yourself, ny dear, with the thought that your lusband is at peace at last." A gentleman had accompanied a riend home to dinner, and as they eated themselves at the table the x 1 1 . iir 4-.,^4- 4-V,?4 1USICSS riiJUiirKUU . J. liusi man v v/u vill make allowances Mr. Blankley. Hy servant left me very unexpectdly, and I was compelled to cook he dinner myself." "0, certainly, ny dear madam, certainly," respondd the guest, with great emphasis; "I an put up with anything." Another amusing slip took the orm of an unhappy after-dinner peech. There was an entertainment ;iven by an earl deservedly popular, t was extremely handsome, and hampagne flowed freely. The evenngwas well advanced when a belignant old gentleman rose to pro>ose a toast. Pie spoke with fluency, ut somehow he said exactly the op osite to what he-meant. "I feel," aid he, "that for a plain country quire like myself to address this earned company is indeed to cast learls before swine." Never was so - * - * ? tt? 1 ^ uccessiui a speecn maue. ne couiu ;et no further for many minutes. ?he company applauded vociferousy, and as though they would never ease. "Now, Miss Brown," said an earnst listener, "won't you play somehingfor us?" "No, thank you," aid the lady; "I'd rather hear Mr. ones." Earnest Listener: "So could I, but?" Here he was stopied by the expression on the young ady's face; and he looked confused or half an hour after she had indigently turned and left him. A person who was recently called nto court for the purpose of proving he correctness of a surgeon's bill, cas asked whether the doctor did not uake several visits after the patient ens out of danger. "No," replied he witness; "I considered the paient in danger as long as the doctor ontinued his visits." A physician walking with a friend aid to him: "Let us avoid that >retty little woman you see there on he left. She knows me, and casts n me looks of indignation. I atended her husband." "Ah, I undertand. You had the misfortune to lespatch him," was the remark that lipped out. "On the contrary," relied the doctor, "I saved him!" "A guest at a country inn exclaim1 11 ?- -- lmnn fr\r\f\ 10 (Ij "X SUJ j it(UUlUiU) ty wux iuuu j?? forse than it was last year." "Imlossible, sir," was the rather ambigous reply of the landlord. "Why," said a counsel to a witness, are you so very precise in your tatement ? Are you afraid of telling n untruth ?" \\ itness (promptly) No, sir." At a recent inquiry into the sanity f a young man of large property, fitnesses were being called to prove hat he was unfit to manage his fi'airs. A curious slip was made by school master when asked if he had >rmed any opinion as to the state of he alleged lunatic. "O yes," he redied, 4 I can certify he is an idiot, le was one of my favorite pupils." "I have met this man," said a iwyer, with extreme severity, "in x ? ??" T tirnnlrl great nmii) jMutuo J. H vuh* eashamed to be seen myself;" and lien lie paused and looked with stonishnient at. the smiling court ndjury. Here are a few other instances of omething very like putting one's >ot in it. The legislature of a westrn State having a bill under considration for the regulation of tax coljctors, an honorable member got up11 his feet and said: "Mr. Sneaker, go in heavy for that bill. The taxollectors are all a set of knaves. I ras one myself for ten years." The ill passed. "How are you getting along in our new place?" asked a lady of a irl whom she had recommended tor situation. "Very well, thanks." I am glad to hear it," said the lady. Your employer is a nice person, and ou cannot do too much for her." "I on't mean to, ma'am," was the inoeent reply. Here is a naive declaration from lie prospectus of a weekly paper : The staff, with the exception of the ditor, has been very carefully selectd, and deserves to secure success." A California newspaper is said to ave been sued for libel by a widow m? urwwL- i n ur of lipr flPTPJlSPd llUSbaild s having "gone to a happier home." A eertain caravan orator at a fair, fter a long yarn descriptive of what r'asto he seen inside, wound up by lying: "Step in, gentlemen; step l! Take my word for it, you will e highly delighted when yon come ut." "Allow me, madam, to congratuiteyouonyour acquaintance with iiat charming lady," said a gallant Iungarian ; she is young, beautiful, nd intelligent." "O certainly," relied the lady. "Hut don't you think tie is is a trifle conceited?" "Why, ladam, just put yourself in her lace, and say would you not be conuited too ?" was the father startling omment. This social slip is even worse. A ity man complained bitterly of the [induct of his son. He related at ;ngth to an old friend all the young inn's escapades. "You should peak to him with firmness and reill him to his duty," said the friend. Hut he pays not the least attention j what I say; he listens only to the dvice of fools. I wish you would ilk to him." NOT ABOVE WORK. "Never be ashamed of your busi- i ness." is a wholesome proverb. If one has an honest business he need < not feel ashamed of it. Some young 1 Jiersons act as if they thought many cinds of honest toil menial and degrading. But they are wrong. "Man hath hi* daily worR of body and mind Appointed, which declares his dignity. When the service is for the good of < man or the glory of God, and is performed in the right spirit, it must i ever be ennobling. It is the work j we do in an unwilling, slavish spirit, ] that degrades us. Toil is manly, even if it be that of a bootblack. "If I . were a bootblack," said a noble Chris- 1 tian man, "I would strive to be the i best bootblack in the world." The s lad who determines to do his best ev- i erywhere, in every place, however 1 lowly, where honest work is needed, s will soonest rise to honor. 1 "If little labor, little are our gains ; Man's fortunes are according to his pains." j Not long since a young man was i asked to carry a small package of < written paper to a sick relative, but i he turned up his nose with the an- ; swer: "No, you don't, now ; send it 1 by an expressman." 1 One evening, near the hour of clos- j ing a store, in Philadelphia, a bundle j of prints was ordered in haste by a < house not more than a block distant. I The carts and porters had gone. The i merchant requested one of his young i men to deliver the bundle, but as he ] did so he perceived a look of disgust in the clerk's face; and without saying another word, he turned to his ' desk, put on his hat, picked up the 1 bundle and walked off to deliver it ] himself, leaving his proud clerk < dumb with mortification as well as < with fear of losing a good position. 1 There are some city-bred boys who act as if they were "above carrying a market basket home." Even when mother is bearing a heavy load for their sakes, they think it "degrad ing" to be seen doing such service, j They soon get too big to wait on them selves. They get to be of less use in j the world than butterflies. The fol- ] lowing story of one of the greatest < men in America is worth impressing j upon each generation of youth. , Chief Justice Marshall was a great i and good man. Good men are not proud men, for pride is an indication ( of a little mind. Chief Justice Marshall was not too proud to wait upon himself. He was in the habit ! of going to market himself and carrying home his purchases. Often might he be seen returning at sunrise with poultry in one hand ] and vegetables in the other in the most homely fashion. , On one of these occasions a fash- j sonable young man was swearing | violently because he could find no ] one to carry home Ms game, juage Marshall stepped up, gently rebuked j him, and asked where he lived, i When he heard the reply, he said: ] "That is in my way, ana I will take ' your game home for you." i When they came to the house, the young man inquired: "What shall I pay you ?" < "Oh, nothing," said the judge; "you are welcome. It was all in the < way, and it was no trouble to me." ] "Who is that polite old gentleman ] who brought home my game for l me?" asked the young man of a by- j stander. ' "Oh," said he, "that was Judge < Marshall, chief justice of the United i States." "Why did he bring home my ] game?" ] "He did it," said the bystander, i "I suppose, by way of teaching you ] not to be above attending to your ( own business."?Truth in Life. i THE DIET OF DIFFERENT PEOPLES. The vagaries of the appetite are far 1 beyond the explanatory science of t physiology. What we call tolerance \ in 'medicine is in itself a mystery. We cannot tell why this thing agrees with this individual, and at the same i time utterly destroys his brother. The trite old saying that "one man's s meat is another man's poison," must lie accepted empirically- Still less can we account for the variations of i taste. Why one man's gustatory 1 nerves should respond agreeably to t salt, while another's repels it with 1 violence, we cannot understand, i Doubtless education has most to do ] with it, and yet the manner in which i education operates continues a mystery. The preference of the Chinese i for food that seem to our appetites 1 absolutely disgusting is well known, i In Canton rats sell for fifty cents a dozen, and dogs' hindauarters command a higher price tnan lamb or mutton. Fancy eating birds' nests t worth thirty dollars a pound! 1 That is what a mandarin revels in. The French beguiled us into eating ] frogs' legs, wnicn w ere onee uiuuwcu in this country, and we have even t come to esteem diseased goose liver t in the form of pate de joie gras. The g writer has met Brazilians who rave l over boa constrictor steaks and 1 count monkeys and parrots a very t good meal. In the West Indies baked snake is a common dish, as tlie 1 reptiles abound, and it is a good way ( of getting rid of them. But when it > comes to frying palm worms in fat, c one would think the stomach would ( rebel. It is not so, however, though, J by a strange inconsistency, stewed j rabbit is looked upon with disgust. ] On the Pacific coast, the Digger In- ] dians eat dried locusts, and in the l Argentine Republic skunk flesh is a g dainty. Our own favorite bivalve, f the oyster, is very disgusting to a i Turk, while the devil-fish, eaten in ( Corsica, is equally so to us. We can- i not understand, either, how the in- ] habitants of the Wast Indies and the i Pacific coast can eat lizzards' eggs j with a relish ; still less how the eggs t of the turtle and alligator can become t a favorite article of diet. The Bra- j zilian eats ants, probably to get rid of j them, for they, literally infest the j country and are of an enormous size. It is easy to pick up a handful of ants j almost anywhere, though the wary a do not go about in this way, as the i pestiferous insect bites in a most vi- a cious manner. A curry of ants' eggs } is a great delicacy in Siam, and the Cingalese eat the bees whose honey j they have stolen. The Chinese, who i seem to have stomachs like the ostrich, eat the chrysalis of the silkworm, after unwinding the cocoon, t Spiders are used in New Caledonia t as a kind of dessert, while caterpil- t lars are also relished by the African Bushmen. a SAVED*BY A DOG. * A week or so ago several of the r daily papers contained accounts of i how four boys were saved from s drowning by a dog belonging to two t nf thorn. I suunose every one who I reads the words I have just written, r unless he read the story as the papers a told it, will imagine a big dog plung- a ing into the water, grasping a boy's I clothing in his teeth, rescuing him, a and then going back for another, c But he did better than that. He saved them all at once, and almost ( at the expense of his own life. This c is the story: The little Smith boys I went to Sunday-school last Sunday I afternoon. After it was over they 1 started off with three other boys to I have a good time. They tramped to v an old mill 011 the Bronx river, and f were romping about when the dog, t Nit, a big black Newfoundland, ran 1 up and joined in the fun. An old c boat, twelve feet long, was fastened i; by a rusty chain to a stake, and all .J the little fellows except one climbed t into it, and were amusing themselves t by rocking it, when the chain broke and the boat drifted out from the s shore. Hardly more than fifty yards I down the river the water splashes s over the dam, and falls twenty feet t on a mass of jagged rocks. There a were no oars in the boat and nothing that would serve in their stead. In i the middle of the river the boat f swung lazily around until the prow ? pointed towards the dam, and then it began slowly to drift down stream. Nit had stood on the shore with ears and tail erect, watching the boat drift away. When the boat began to move towards the dam Nit became ill at ease, and ran barking and whining up and down the bank. The boys were thoroughly alarmed by this time, too, and began to cry out for help. Nit sprang into the water, and beat his way with lusty strokes toward the boat, now dangerously near the dam. He swam right in front of the boat, and tried to stop it with body, but the current swung the stern around. Finding that this wouldn't do, he swam t XI. _ 1 X X f _ _ .1 XL irounu me ooai Twice, ana men sprung up on the gunwale and seized it with his teeth. This lifted him so far out of the water that he couldn't swim. Then he let go his hold. He then swam close to the boat, and sticking his head over the gunwale, looked imploringly into little Oscar's face ma whimpered. Oscar misunderstood, and thought Nit was tired and wanted to come in for a rest. He seized the leather strap that was buckled around the dogs's neck, and tried to lift him in. But Nit instantly dropped into the water, and, pointing his nead toward the shore, began swimming for all he was worth. Bradually the downward course of the boat was stopped. It swung around in answer to Nit's powerful legs, and slowly drew near tne shore. just before the boat grounded, poor Nit sunk exhausted in the water. The boys had to jump out, and pull iiim ashore and Anally carried him part of the way home by tying their 2oats together for a bed to carry him an. He recovered sufficiently to walk, and is now as well as ever. EDISON'S BEGINNING IN BOSTON. Thomas Edison had been in several Western telegraph offices, where he was looked on as an expert, and was at length ordered to Boston to All a vacancy. The weather was warm, and he donned linen clothes and a broad-brimmed hat. Before he reached Boston the weather turned cold and stormy, but just as he was, linen cluster and all, he reported at the telegraph office. He walked into the superintendent's room, and said, "Here 1 am." The superintendent looked the young fellow over with a critical eye, and asked, "Who are you ?" "Tom Edison " was. the reply. "Who's Tom Edison ?" The young operator explained that he had been ordered Tor duty, and the superintendent told him to sit down in the operating room. His advent there created considerable amusement, and the operators guyed him not a little. Edison sat quietly, making no outward sign of aisturbince. An hour or more passed, and then a New York sender, noted for bis swiftness, signaled the office. There was no one to receive his message, the operators all being otherwise engaged. "Let the new fellow take him," said the superintendent. Young Edison sat down at the instrument, and for four hours and a balf wrote out messages in a clear, round hand, stuck a date and a numseron them, and threw them on the door for the office boy to pick up. The time he took in numbering and dating were the only moments he was not writing transmitted words. Faster and faster ticked the instrument, and faster and faster moved Edison's lingers, till the rapidity with which the mesages came tumbling out attracted the attention of ither operators, who, when their work was done, gathered around to witness the spectacle. At the close of four hours and a lalf, and of the New York business, :here flashed from New York the salltation: "Hello!" "Hplln vnnrsfilf!" ticked back Ed son. "Who are you ?" sounded the instrument. "Tom Edison," was ticked back. "Tom Edison, I'm glad to know rou." came over the wires. "You ire the only man that could ever ake me at my fastest, and the first ;hat ever sat at the other end of my vire for over two hours and a half. [ congratulate the office in getting fou there." The young man in the limp duster md slouch hat had won his first aurels in the Boston office. He was lever guyed after that first day. HOW GIRLS STUDY. Did you ever see two girls get ogether to study of an evening? I lave, and it generally goes like this: "In 1703 Marquette discovered the Mississippi. In 1073 Marquette dis? What dia you say, Ide? You had rver so much rather see the hair coiled han braided??Yes, so had I. It's so much more stylish, and then it ooks classical, too ; but how do you ike?Oh, dear! I can never learn his lesson. "In 1803 Lafayette discovered the Wisconsin. In 1863 Lafayette distovered the?well! what's the matter ,vith me, anyhow! In 1673 Marjuette discovered the Mississippi. I ion't care if he did. I suppose the Mississippi would have gotten along ust as well if Marquette had never lad looked at it. Now, see here, ;de, is there anything about my ooks that would give you to underitand that I know when Columbus ounded Jamestown, and how George Washington won thebattle of Shilon? If course there isn't. History's a horid study anyhow. No use, neither. S'ow, French is much nicer. I can ntroduce French phrases very often, ind one must know I have studied he language. What is the lesson for o-morrow ? Oh, yes; conjugation of nirler. Let's see: how does it confluence ? Je parle, tu parle, il par?il 1a?il?well, il then! "Conjugations don't amount to mything. I know some phrases that ire appropriate hero ana there, and n almost every locality; and how's inybody going to know but what I lave the conjugations all by heart? "//arc I got my geometry ? No I'm ust going to study it. Thirty-ninth, s it not ? "T of H,a +rinn<rlp A R C. triftrxrlfi V B?say, Ide, have you read about he Jersey Lily and Freddie? I hink it is too utterly utter. Oh! heorem. "Let the triangle A B C be right.ngled at B. On the side B C, erect, ;rect the square A 1. On the sidelid I tell you Sister Caracciola gave ne a new piece to-day, a sonata ? It s really intense. Tne tones fairly tir my soul. 1 am never going to ake anything but sonatas after this. got another new piece, too. Its lame is Etudes. Isn't it funny ? I isked Tom this noon what it means, nd he says it is Oreek for nothing, t is duite annroDOS. for there is re ,lly nothing 'in it?tlie same thing >ver and over. "Where was I ? Oh ! yes; side A } the square A E. Draw the line? ome on, let's go at our astronomy, t's on, 'Are the planets inhabited ?' sTow, Ide, I think they are, and I iave thought about it a great deal. banged iny hair last night. I vante'l a Langtry bang just too bad or anj use, but pa raved, and I had o give ,'n. Yes, I think they are inhibited. I should like to visit some ?f them, but you would not catch ne living in \ enus. Eight seasons! ust think how often we would have o have r. ew outfits to keep up with he stvleo. "Wnat! you are not going ? I am o sorry, but I suppose you are tired. am. It always makes me most ick to study a whole evening like his. I think Sister ought to give us picture." And they go to school next raornng and tell the other girls how awully hard they have studied.?[Belle JcDonald.